Living Years
by flashpenguin
Summary: Em has been Dave's sounding board since coming back to the team. But a personal secret she has hidden from everyone is trying to come out. Can Dave return the favour and help her the way she helped him?
1. Chapter 1

_I know that I have lots of stories I need to update and many more I need to beta, but this story needed to be told. Recently, I suffered a loss in my life and though, like Em, I have tried to be strong and not burden people, sometimes the pain gets too much to bear. So, I decided to channel it thru a story. Sometimes writing is more cathartic than crying._

_And before anyone jumps on me about the team not knowing about Emily's dad passing, sometimes life happens and things get lost. And since the Prentiss's were not close to anyone on the team and were probably mourning the loss of their only daughter, it may not have crossed their mind to notify anyone. Honestly, would it have changed anything if they had? I can see this being one more thing for Em to deal with while she was in hiding and running for her life. What could hurt more than being alone, presumed dead, and mourning the loss of a parent and not being able to go to the funeral? Now that she's come back, it's another thing she will have to deal with._

**Song prompt: "Living Years" by Mike & The Mechanics.**

**Living Years**

Emily Prentiss unlocked the front door and walked into her apartment. Throwing her purse on the table beside the door, she didn't seem to notice that it had missed and fallen to the floor. But never mind, she had more important things to think about than a compact falling out.

Walking to the kitchen, she didn't turn on a light as she went to the cupboard and blindly reached for a wineglass. Getting drunk wasn't going to solve anything, but maybe it would ease the pain in her chest. She needed something to make the ache feel better.

Pouring the wine, she flashed back to the moment when she had been old enough to drink her first glass at one of the embassy parties she had been allowed to attend. She remembered the glitz and glamour as the people paraded around in their fine, expensive clothes and flashing jewels. It had been the mid eighties and the Dynasty look was in. Shoulder pads and pastel eye shadow, and big hair that she was sure was the cause of global warming. She had laughed about it then, and even when she had come across the picture a couple years back. But now as the memory flashed, she didn't laugh; she wanted to cry.

She slipped off her shoes by the front door and carried her glass to the living room. She didn't want any lights on. But she would turn on the music. Maybe that would help. By the faint light of the sun fading on the horizon, she located the CDs she wanted. She slipped them into the stereo and hit play.

As the soft strains of Elvis filled her quiet room, she leaned back on the couch and closed her eyes. She hoped that soon she could relax. At least, that was her thought when a sharp knock startled her.

Setting the glass down, she walked over to the front door. Peeping thru the security hole, she sighed. She should have known that he would come over. She debated ignoring him. Maybe he would give up and go away. But as another knock filled the apartment, she knew that was as unlikely as snow in Texas in August. Sighing, she undid the numerous locks and opened the door.

"Hello, Dave," she greeted with false cheer.

"Hello, Emily," Dave greeted. "I thought you might be home."

Em leaned against the door frame. "What brings you here?"

"I was in the neighbourhood and thought I'd stop by and say 'hi'," he replied with a faint smile.

Em crossed her arms over her breasts. "Oh." Her stance was almost defiant.

"May I come in?" he asked softly.

"Um…I really don't want to see anyone right now." She tried to meet his eyes and failed. "I want to be alone."

Dave nodded sympathetically. "I understand. It will only be for a few minutes." Em debated with herself for a few seconds, then stepped aside to let him come in. "Thanks," he told her. "It's cold out there."

"Yeah," she replied noncommittally.

"Can I hang my coat up?"

"You were only going to stay a few minutes," she reminded him.

"You're right." He noticed the bottle on the counter. "What are you drinking?"

"Sangiovese di Romagna," Em said hollowly.

"Tuscany. May I have a glass?"

"Dave…" she started. She didn't want him here. She wanted him gone. Giving him a glass of wine would only propel him to stay.

"Just a glass," he interrupted.

"Then you can get it. You know where the glasses are." She turned and walked into the living room. She could hear the faint sounds of him moving around, but she blocked him out by listening to the song playing. "And you might as well hang up your coat, too. There's a hook by the door," she called out.

A couple of minutes later, Dave appeared in the living room. A glass of wine was in his one hand, and the bottle in the other. He cocked his head as he listened closely. "Elvis?" Dave's tone held a bit of surprise tinged with humour.

Em felt herself involuntarily stiffen. "I like Elvis."

"Really?"

"Yes. And if you don't, you can leave," she suggested in a cold tone.

Dave raised his eyebrow in question by her tone. "I didn't say I didn't like Elvis, all I'm saying is that I was surprised that he was on your list. You never struck me as a fan of 'the King'," he replied gently. "As a matter of fact, I am pleasantly surprised that you have him on." He took a seat kitty corner to Em. "I like him too."

Em rolled her eyes. "Sure you do. I've seen your collection."

"Not my whole collection. I was born in 1955 and Elvis was big when I was growing up. He and Sinatra and Dino were the biggest acts of the 60's. It brings back good memories of my childhood when I hear 'Crying In The Chapel'."

"Comforting." Em kept her eyes on the glass in her hands and tried not to count down the seconds to when he would leave and she could have her peace and quiet back.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Why do you ask?"

"You were a little distant at work today."

"I'm fine," she said and hoped he didn't hear the catch on her voice. Quickly she sipped the wine. It was something she could concentrate on.

"I was a little worried about you."

"Is that why you stopped by?" _God, why couldn't he just leave? _she asked herself. She put the glass on the table.

"Sort of." He looked around the nicely furnished room. "Nice fireplace," he observed. "Mind if I start a fire?" He started to get up.

"I do," Em stopped him cold. "I don't want to sound rude, but I really want to be alone right now. I don't know why you came over, but I thank you for taking time out from your schedule. Now, if you don't mind…" She stood up. She was restless and she needed to get out from the four walls closing in around her. "I thought you had a date with some ambassador's daughter."

"I do." He nodded in agreement. His eyes never left the woman standing in front of him. He watched her every move and facial expression. She was a good profiler, but he was better. But it didn't take an expert profiler to see that she was in pain.

"Then why aren't you with her?" Em's voice quavered slightly.

"I am," Dave returned smoothly. He watched the surprise and flummoxed expressions cross her face. "You're the ambassador's daughter. Now sit, Em. Drink your wine and relax. Please."

Em shook her head. "I don't think…"

"Please," he repeated. His words were a plea for her to do as he asked.

Sitting down, Em grabbed the glass and tried to focus on it instead of the man who had some how tricked her and was now sitting in her living room taking charge.

The CD changed and Dino filled the room. Neither person spoke for a long while as the melancholy song played. As it ended, Dave looked over at the woman he considered his friend sitting in the corner of the oversized couch. They had more in common than even she knew.

He didn't want to break the moment, but he had to ask the question that had been weighing on his mind for a couple of weeks. "So, when did your father die?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Living Years**

"How did you know?" Em asked softly.

"I suspected something was wrong a little while back, but I couldn't put my finger on it," he replied. "I probably wouldn't have thought anything if you hadn't let something slip right around Christmas. Then I put two and two together."

"One thing I said managed to make you assume that I had lost my father?" Em replied sarcastically.

"And I went on line. I wondered why you weren't going home for Christmas."

"Mother didn't want a party this year. That part was the truth."

"And now I know why. But it was also the way you tensed up when Father's Day was mentioned." Dave set his glass down and leaned forward. "When were you going to tell us?"

Em ducked her head and bit her lip. "I don't know."

"You could have."

"I didn't want to burden anyone."

"It wouldn't have been a burden; we're family," Dave gently chastised. "We're here for each other."

Em sighed and dropped her shoulders in defeated sadness. "I know. But you were grieving over Caroline and JJ had the problems with Will going on. Hotch isn't exactly easy to access now that Strauss is in rehab."

"True, but there are other members of the team," Dave pointed out.

"Pen has Kevin issues, and Christmas is not a great time for Derek. His father died on Christmas."

Dave nodded. "You're right."

"And Reid…" Em continued. "He is still distant toward me. Plus he is still dealing with his father issues and Gideon… I couldn't pour my heart out to him and expect him to put my problems above his."

"He wouldn't have put your grief over his problems, but even if he did, that's what friends do."

"And that is why you are here?" she whispered on a shaky breath.

"I want to help."

Em shook her head. "There is nothing to help with; he's gone and I'm here with the memories of all the things I did that made his life hell."

"How do you figure?" Dave wondered.

"I wasn't the easiest teenager to live with. I had my moments…or rather a truckload of them."

"No teenager makes it easy for their parents. It's some unwritten rule. But life goes on and people mature. And when you have children, you realize how foolish you had been."

"Well, I don't have children."

"But you still care," he remarked. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Em blinked back the tears and took a deep breath. "If you want to know why I couldn't go to the team, it's because most of them were adolescents when their fathers died. It's different when you're in your late thirties…because you think you have all the time in the world. And you get used to your parents being around." Her fingers fidgeted nervously.

"So it hurts more when they leave," Dave said simply. "I know."

"How old were you? When your dad died?"

"Twenty one." Even though thirty five years had passed, the pain in Dave's heart was just as sharp as the first time he had heard the news. "I was in the Marines when I got the news. It was over Christmas and I had no one to talk to."

"What did you do?" Em asked.

"I got married to my first wife. They say that while in grief you shouldn't make life altering decisions because you aren't thinking clearly. They were right," Dave gave a dry chuckle.

"At least I didn't do anything that drastic. I just drank myself into unconsciousness. Once or twice," she added as an afterthought.

"Understandable. So, why didn't say anything to the team?"

"Because there was nothing anyone could have done. By the time I got back, it wouldn't have mattered. I was over in Europe when it happened." Em picked up her wineglass and twirled the liquid around. She was in no hurry to finish it. She just needed to hold something in her hands.

"Did you get to go to the funeral?" Dave asked.

"No. It was kept pretty quiet. Mother didn't want a big show. Only a few intimate friends were invited. He was cremated. I guess Mother has his ashes."

"Wasn't he an Ambassador?"

Em shrugged. "One of how many? Plus he had been retired for a few years. Most people had forgotten about him."

"That's not true."

"Besides, he had been sick for a few years. I think most people thought he had passed a few years earlier."

"How did you find out? Was it JJ?" Dave tried to imagine that someone on the team had to have known that Ambassador Alan Prentiss had passed away and alerted Emily. No one could be that out of the loop.

"It was Erin Strauss. Remember how she took that emergency leave after my funeral?" Dave nodded. "She was going out to my dad's funeral."

Good old Erin. He should have known there was more than one secret she was keeping. "She didn't say anything to us."

"She couldn't. Even if she had wanted to, she couldn't. Doyle was watching and the scrutiny was such with the rumour that maybe I hadn't died that she could not risk it." Em stared intently at the wine. "It's funny how well she and Mother get along. You would never imagine that under that hard ass exterior, Erin really cares about people."

"You know, I met him once…your dad," Dave admitted. He tried to watch Em's expression, but the sun had gone down and the room was too dark. But he heard the change in her breathing.

"And what did you think?"

"I can see where you got your ability to compartmentalize."

"He was like that. But that was who he wanted everyone to see. Deep down inside, he was scared of failing. He had never been expected by his family to amount to much - I mean, they were all lawyers and politicians - and he didn't want anything to do with that. At least not on the level of having to run for elected office. So, he took an ambassadorship under President Johnson. And he managed to keep a couple of countries neutral during those troubled times."

"Considering the way the world was bordering on World War III, I think he did a damn good job," Dave complimented.

"Well, it was Shirley Temple who got all the news for being appointed to Czechoslovakia," Em muttered. "So, Daddy's accomplishments were swept under the rug."

"What was he like? As a person?"

"I guess he was okay. He knew how to tell a joke and take control of a room."

"And as a dad?"

"Well, when he wasn't in meetings or traveling all over the world to meet with figure heads, he was pretty good. I don't remember him much when I was a kid…although there are some good moments." Em sipped slowly as her memory went back in time. "I remember when I was six and he bought me my first Big Mac at McDonald's. And then there was the time he taught me how to ride a bike."

Softly the rain began to fall outside. "Once, we went to a basketball game. I don't remember the teams, but I got to sit next to him for those couple of hours and share something that he liked. I hate basketball." She sipped again. "Still do."

"I like it."

Em snorted. "You two would have gotten along great."

"Did you ever tell him? That you didn't like basketball?" Dave asked.

"No. We didn't get to spend much time together, and I was happy for that. He never got a son, and I tried to make up for it. Most of the time business took him away and he missed my birthdays…"

"That explains why you don't like them," Dave finished.

"I…yes it does," she confirmed. "But he always tried to make it up to me. He bought me dolls from the countries he visited. Or he would take me shopping. Then there was that one time he helped me when I had the flu. Mother was out of town, and he thought he could help me by bringing me some toast and tea. Unfortunately, it was Irish Crème tea and I had a bad reaction to it."

"I'm sorry."

Em smiled faintly at the memory. "He didn't complain when he cleaned me and the bed up. But he became laissez faire after that. I guess that's when I began to pull away too." Em blinked quickly. It was getting harder and harder to fight back the tears that threatened to over take her.

"Did he know…about…?" Dave left the question open.

"No," she replied simply. "I never told him. I thought at first that he would have wanted to kill me…and if I had had a daughter and that had happened to her...I guess I would have done the same thing. But I think when I look back on it, I was more afraid of him killing the poor kid who got me pregnant. Few people knew that Daddy had a bad temper."

"I can empathize."

"Still…I can't help but think that this was my fault," she confessed.

"How do you figure that, Emily?" Dave was confused.

"If I hadn't taken that assignment to go undercover and track Doyle, I wouldn't have put myself in danger. Then I wouldn't have run into him years later and faked my death. I would have been there when Daddy needed me. Instead, I was hiding out in Europe like a coward."

"You weren't a coward; you were trying to save your life and that of the team. Not to mention your parents' lives, too. If Doyle had found out about them…"

"I know. But that doesn't take the guilt away. Or ease the pain. He died never knowing that I forgave him for not always being there. Or to hear me say I'm sorry for all the times I told him to shut up and stormed out of the room…" Em could barely get the words out as tears clogged her throat.

Dave didn't move. He just sat and listened because there was nothing he could say. There were no words to make everything alright. She had to get it off her chest if she was going to heal and move on.

"Do you think he's up there with…?" she asked.

Dave nodded. "I do."

"Do you think they've forgiven me?" The tears broke free to fall like rain.

"I do." Dave's reply was emphatic.

"He…he…" Her voice shook as a sob overwhelmed her. "I never got…got…" Em got no further as she broke down. In an instant, Dave was beside her. Taking the glass of wine from her hand, he set it on the coffee table. Moving closer, he tested the waters. "Shh, Em," he soothed as he wrapped her in his protective embrace, "it's going to be alright."

"I never got to tell him 'good-bye'," she sobbed.

"I know." Dave held tight as she wept on his shoulder. "I know."

"And I never got to tell him that I love him." Her words were broken up, but he understood.

"He knew, Emily. Just like my father knew that I loved him," Dave whispered in her ear. "Let it go, sweetheart."

"Dave?" she sobbed.

"Yes, Em?" Tears of grief were in his eyes but he was going to be strong for her.

"Don't let me go."

Burying his face in her hair, Dave blinked quickly. His arms tightened their hold around his friend. She had been there for him when he needed someone. Now he was returning the favour. Honouring her small request was the least he could do.

"Never."

_The End._

* * *

><p><em>Dedicated to Alan Joseph Hayes (04 May 1940 - 05 Jan 2012).<br>I miss you. And I will love you forever. _


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